Recalibrating a Rhapsody
by GinAndTonicAndMaybeALemon
Summary: [FUTURE AU][DESTIEL] "I love you." "I do not understand." "I. Love. You." "I still do not understand."


" _Machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines, you are not cattle, you are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate: only the unloved hate, the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers, don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty! You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness!"_

 _-Charles 'Charlie' Chaplin_

* * *

 **Chapter 1.0 – New Color**

* * *

" _How do you feel?"_

" _I do not know. I cannot feel."_

" _What is a word you would use to describe the state you are in?"_

" _Obsolete."_

* * *

"State your name please," the doorman says. His nickname around here is Death. Mostly because no one knows his real name, and no one asks; the man looks strange.

"Dean Winchester."

 _Access granted,_ a computerized voice answers. Dean walks into the hallway, all silver with a black carpeted floor thrown in for taste, and he _knows_ he's in for a long-ass meeting. He doesn't do long meetings. In fact, he didn't do meetings at all. But when no other handlers were free, he got tossed into this job. He didn't even know what the job was for; all he got was a building number, room number, and a time. Of course, he recognized the building almost immediately; Heavens Enterprises, a company specializing in electronics and robots. Or something like that. Which probably consisted of thousands of tedious meetings with bean-counting, tight-suit wearing, holier-than-thou smart people. No pie.

And Dean could really use some pie right now.

"Let's see, door number 72A, 72B, 72C... and now 72D." He moves to push it open, and surprise grips him when it opens by itself. _Damn, don't automatic doors normally have warnings._

Walking inside, he finds himself in a large room that resembles a university classroom, with row after row of desks with chairs attached, all leading down to a stage. One man, brown-haired, stands with another black-haired one who is sitting. Both look when Dean enters.

"Ah! And who might you be," asks the man who is standing,

"Uh, Dean. Winchester? This is 72D, Heavens building, right?" Dean walks down a set of stairs, toward the man who nods in response.

"This is. Sorry for calling you on such short time, and with no report as well. I'm Chuck," the man says, holding out his hand. "You've been hired to look after something special of ours."

"Nice to meet you Chuck," Dean says, shaking his hand before turning to look at the other man. Chuck waves his hand.

"This right here is Michael. Newest creation. He isn't the one you are looking after though. We're having a meeting, I'd like you to join us." Chuck looks at Michael, and Dean follows his gaze. Dark eyes to match the hair. It takes a few seconds for Dean to realize what Chuck said, but when he does, Chuck is talking again. "Say hello, Michael."

"Hello."

"Aha, marvelous, isn't he? Yes, a fine creation. Please, sit, everyone else will be arriving shortly."

Having no choice, Dean moves to sit in the front row as Chuck turns away to fumble with a microphone and podium. In this day and age, you didn't ask much questions. Dean looks around the room, but there definitely isn't anyone else yet. A large balcony runs around the top of the room. Red carpet, black seats, and no windows. Sighing, he settles back into his seat, noticing Michael not taking his eyes off him. Unnerving. Swallowing, Dean scratches the bacķ of his neck. He was definitely in for a long meeting.

* * *

"When we go in, stand aside on the balcony," Charlie commands him. _Affirmative._

"Yes, Charlie."

"Don't talk or move." _Affirmative._

"Yes, Charlie."

Charlie opens a door by waving her hand over a black panel. One beep later, they are both standing on a balcony in a grey and white room, with only red as the brightest color. The carpet and a curtain behind the stage are this color. There are seats with desks everywhere, filled with people in suits. He can see his counterpart, Michael, on stage. The creator, Chuck, is fixing something on stage as welll.

Charlie pauses to glance at herself at the wall running around the room; silver, it shows their reflections clearly. She brushes down her red hair, cut in a very modern bob. He looks at himself too, wondering if he should be doing the same. _Human pattern detected._ He reaches up to try and straighten the unruly brown hair, and try to adjust the blue tie. _Blue_. He knows it is blue, as his mind tells him, but he has never seen this much blue before. It is astounding. Charlie sighs quietly and turns to him, fixing his tie for him. He looks down at his attire, all ironed to look more professional. She looks up and smiles softly.

"You're all set, Castiel."

 _Do not comprehend._

"I do not understand that phrase."

"Oh, Castiel," Charlie sighs in a _oh-poor-you_ way. Castiel watches her, waiting for her to explain, but she just shakes her head. "Castiel, get ready, alright?"

 _I am ready. Situation unclear._

"I am ready for all probable situations."

"Castiel, hush."

 _Affirmative._

"Yes, Charlie."

Smiling, worry around her eyes though, Charlie glances at the crowd and at Chuck. _Human pattern detected. Follow lead._ Castiel looks over the crowd as well, then toward the stage. Michael is looking at him, probably questioning what they are both doing their. Castiel turns his head to the red cutain. He has seen red before in the labs and on the mouths of some people, but not so much one one object. He looks back at the crowd. There is a lot of black, white, and grey. Those shades, he has seen a lot of. Yellow, too. Blond on men, blonde on woman. As well as black, brown, and silver. He takes this time to store all the different shades.

"Good evening everyone!" Chuck walks out on stage, beaming. "I am glad we could all gather together for this meeting. Today, we discuss what we have all been working on: AI's. Now, I would like to introduce Michael, whom most of you have all already met. Say hello, Michael."

"Hello."

There was sound of slow clapping and _hello Michael's_ from the crowd. Chuck smiles even wider.

"As we know, their core processor is capable of doing a great many things. Able to speaķ over 5000 languages-"

"Five-thousand eight-hundred seventy-five, sir," Michael informed, and the audience chuckled. Castiel stored this sound for later, mirroring it in his head. _Hehe. Haha. Hahaha. Ha. Aha._

"Yes, thank you, Michael. These machines can work as translators. They are capable of complex math formulas, equations. Physics and chemistry and biology problems. They can be doctors, policemen, teachers. The whole nine yards. But, it then remains to be seen..." the creator trailed off, looking slowly around the room. "It then remains to be said; _should_ we allow this? Is it absolutely necessary? And what of the risks?"

Chuck pauses again as the room remains steadily silent, and he turns and walks back to Michael setting his hand on his shoulder. He motions for Michael to stand and move forward, and Michael obeys, walking steadily to the edge of the stage. Castiel watches closely, and Michael briefly meets his eyes for a split second again.

"Michael, what is happiness?"

"Happiness is me smiling, and my eyes widening, and my-"

"Alright, alright. Michael, now tell us, what is hatred?" Chuck looks at him, folding his hands together behind his back. Castiel can see Michael questioning, wondering what their creator was thinking.

"Hatred is my adrenaline pumping, and my fists clenching, and-"

"Stop. Alright, Michael, what is love?"

"Love is my heart quickening, and my stomach turning, and my pupils dilating-"

"Okay, stop Michael. Please, sit down." Chuck motions to the seat, and Michael obediently sits. The audience claps again, Castiel makes an educated assumption it is because of respect. He makes a note of this, reminding himself to clap as well later on. When the audience dies down, Chuck moves back up, silently watching the crowd, contemplating his next words.

"They can tell us about the physical part that consists of emotions, but not what they are. They can tell us about reflexes, and hormones, but not the human thought behind it. This is the problem. They are not human, so why should they be trusted as human? What if they betray us? Like a brilliant psychopath, they will feel no remorse, empathy. Therefore, I propose we use one, and send it out into the world, with a handler, to _teach_ them humanity. Even if they cannot feel, the can come to understand it. Understand _us_." Chuck fell silent again, and the room descends into whispers and murmurs. Castiel frowns, trying to understand his creator's words. _Empathy_. _Remorse. Humanity._ Had he not already been programmed with humanity? With the five senses?

"And how do we do this," a man in the third row asks, pulling Castiel from his thoughts. "If they are being trained to be trusted as humans, how do we put them in the world safely?"

"We place them with a very trusted, advanced handler, someone to watch them. And soon, these AI's will pick up on human thought," Chuck answers.

"But how can we be sure it will work?"

"We wait and see."

"Sir, we are placing an awful lot of trust in them though," a brunette woman in row seven calls out.

"Yes, it would be one of the first steps on the path to success."

"Chuck," another man says carefully, crossing his arms. Castiel has seen him around the facility though he can't remember his name. "There is a problem. If we give these machines what is basically free-will, as well as teach them to understand human emotions, then they can become corrupt, just as much as humanity has. Greed, vengeance, lust, hatred , they could be consumed, but is it moral? To give them freedom, knowing what they might create themselves?"

"An old question," Chuck answers slowly, turning to Michael. He places a hand on the machine's shoulder, and Michael looks up at him blankly. "In the beginning, as many a good book states, God loved Lucifer. By taking away freedom, the angel sought vengeance. When God gave humans freedom, they damned themselves. Yes, Crowley, it is a moral question. But I believe we can pull this one off. Any objections?"

Chuck looks around at his audience, but no one speaks out. Just silence as everyone waits for the inevitable. Castiel hangs on his every word, absorbing, analyzing. _Moral. The battle of right and wrong. What has to be done and what wants to be done. Want and need._ If he was capable of the idea of right and wrong, then Castiel was sure that there would be no error when the actual choice of right and wrong came up. Chuck spoke again.

"Alright. With nothing in the way, then we shall start this stage: Assimilation. I would like to introduce the new handler, Mr. Dean Winchester." Chuck held out his arm toward the other side of the room as the audience claps again. A man slowly stands, and Castiel notices he looks apprehensive. Surprised, is the emotion Castiel guesses the man is feeling. He stores the expression for later, and watches the man slowly approach the stage, unsure looking. Chuck grins and shakes the man's hand.

"Winchester here has agreed to take this case on. And now, for our handpicked AI." Chuck looks up at Charlie, who smiles and turns to Castiel. She grabs his hand, and he looks down at it in confusion.

"This is you, Castiel! Come on!" Charlie pulls his hand, leading him to the stage. Confused, Castiel runs through his memory. He doesn't remember anyone mentioning this. He looks at the crowd, who is looking back at him. He remembers to blink once, twice, seem human, before looking forward again. He is on the stage with Chuck, Charlie, Michael, and this Dean. Slowly, the 'handler' raises his hand, and Castiel stares at the outstretched appendage, recognizing it as a greeting. He grabs it, shaking it as he has seen humans do many times in the past, then lets go. He looks up, noticing the color of green in this human's eyes. A new color. Castiel deems this important and stores the memory for later.

"Castiel here will be the new up-and-coming AI to go out," Chuck says, and the audience slowly claps again. Castiel stands aside with Charlie as Chuck resumes talking, but the AI finds himself looking at Michael, then Dean. The human is watching him as well, and Castiel assumes the look is confusion. Maybe even suspicion. Castiel looks away, reaching out for Charlie's hand again. She takes it with a look of surprise and understanding. Remembering to blink again, Castiel begins wondering just why his creator is giving him away.

* * *

 **Disclaimer** for the lawyers and businessmen that apparently dislike the idea of extremely gay fanfiction: I don't own Supernatural.

 **WARNINGS** : Possible sexy scenes in the future. Rating might go up. Violence and language. Remember, m/m pairing= m/m sex, so if that ain't your thing stop here.

 **Author's Note:** I don't know what I was thinking when I chose to write this. I just wanted to try and write some destiel. Because, you know... destiel. This is my first time writing for this fandom, so I'm sorry in advance for any weird mishaps, like OOCness. Plus, sorry for grammar and spelling mistakes, I don't have any beta-reader. I want to continue this, and I will if others are interested. So let me know if this is what people want! Thank you all for, hopefully, giving this a shot though.


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